{This Sacred Everyday} Megan Tietz

Megan Tietz was one of the first blogs and bloggers I got to know in this little corner of the internet. And since that first connection I have constantly felt supported and  encouraged by her. She has guest posted for me before and it’s a joy to have her back.


I pull the ugly yellow fleece blanket up closer to myself, prop my feet up, and lean back in the front porch rocking chair.

It’s Election Day and she and I talk about religion and politics in the friendly, breezy way that only comes when you are completely un-invested in the choices of the other.

Our girls are all playing in the front yard and our eyes and bodies and brains are still adjusting to the time change. The sun is already slipping down low and we squint at each other while we talk and our girls giggle and I think they’re playing some version of Ninja Puppy. And it’s the birthday of one of the puppies (or one of the ninjas?) and they sing.

We rock and talk and plan meals for our other neighbor who just had surgery and take note of husbands home early and others working late. My front door slams and her storm door swings open and the girls harvest snacks for everyone from our kitchens and it’s like this until it’s too dark to play and we head in to feed hungry tummies and bathe children who smell like puppies who have been rolling in leaves.

And this is the way it is every day. It is routine and it is ritual, this community of the front porch.

Sometimes all of us from our section of the block meet up on the porch, and sometimes it’s just one or two. A constant is kids on scooters and bikes and racing and chasing and screeching and laughter. We grown-ups sit and visit, sometimes nursing cold beers and sometimes sipping from wine glasses, and the words come easily amongst friends. We tell stories on our children, stories on ourselves. Chapter by fragmented chapter, life stories get pasted together, secrets are spilled, deepest hurts and soaring triumphs and worries for the future and regrets of the past … it all tumbles out there on the concrete of our nearly century-old front porch.

My husband and I spent many years striving so hard for community.

We tried to create it, tried to lead it, tried to invite others to it, tried to cajole others into buying into the theory-made-practice. Community, for us, meant working hard and lowering expectations and living in the reality of burning out. It genuinely never occurred to us that being in community would mean just that - being. And we certainly never expected it would just show up at our literal front door.

In the six months we’ve lived in this house, we’ve found ourselves dazzled by this gift of grace, this sacred block in the middle of the city. Christ’s call to love your neighbor has always seemed so elusive and so intimidating. I feel like the past six months have been made up of moment after beautiful moment of discovering that when you know your neighbors, it’s not hard to love them at all. When you know your neighbors, ministering to one another grace comes naturally.

None of us go to the same church; some don’t do church or Jesus or any of that stuff at all. There is no agenda, nothing is planned, no conversation topics to prepare for, no video clips to watch or discuss, no entertainment other than watching our kids turn cartwheels in the yard. And sometimes I wonder if this is a little what it was like for the early church described in Acts, how they lived together and had everything in common. Affection for one another grows in the daily-ness of hours shared in cheap outdoor rockers and tree-stumps-turned-chairs.

It is a good place and a safe place and a holy place, the front porch. And God meets us there in the golden-y afternoon sun and the sweating drinks and the crunching of popcorn and the squeals of our children and the licks of a puppy dog and the heads thrown back in laughter. He is there and He whispers in my spirit “This is how it was always meant to be.”


Megan Tietz is the soothing voice and spirited pen behind SortaCrunchy.net – blog hub for all things faith, family, and natural living since 2006. She’s also the co-author of Spirit-Led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby’s First Year. Megan and her husband Kyle make their home in Oklahoma City with daughters Dacey and Aliza Joy, both anxiously awaiting their twin brothers’ arrival in 2013. She’s an ENFP through and through, and would love to talk Myers Briggs, great books, and favorite TV with you (over a strong cup of coffee) just as long as you’ll let her.

#FoundGrace in yellow flowers, JoJo, and some cozy Target pants
These Sacred Everydays
{This Sacred Everyday} Annie Barnett
{This Sacred Everyday} Tanya Marlow
  • Jeannie

    this is really nice — community as gift, not project!

  • http://becomingpeculiar.com Kathleen Quiring | Becoming Peculiar

    So lovely, Megan. I’m a little envious, though I know I’m partly to blame that I have no connection to my neighbours — I’ve never even introduced myself to them. Community seems scary to me, but at the same time, I long for it. Thanks for the inspiring words.

  • http://divandmama.blogspot.com Jenn

    This makes me catch my breath a little…something so elusive, but so beautiful. Something we strive for but maybe it isn’t always found in the striving.

  • http://yahoo.com pat

    BEAUTIFUL POST! I too long for community!

  • http://drgtjustwondering.blogspot.com Diana Trautwein

    Love me some Megan Tietz in the evening! Thanks for this lovely, lyrical reflection on the joys of front-porch community, something I have never had the privilege of enjoying. (never lived in a house with a porch!) Now we do have a small group that frequently meets on our back patio – but a front porch? Nope. When my kids were growing up there were several families spread over about a block that would hang out on the sidewalk and visit and our kids would run back and forth – sometimes happily, sometimes not. That’s about as close as we’ve ever come to feeling part of a true neighborhood. What you have is a real gift – enjoy it.

  • michaboyett

    “Some Megan Tietz in the evening!” I love it. I’ve been thinking about this post all day. How do we strive for community and still let grace happen? There’s some kind of balance there, right?

  • http://drgtjustwondering.blogspot.com Diana Trautwein

    That’s an interesting balance/dichotomy that Megan addresses here, isn’t it, Micha? After working hard at trying to build community – it just sort of arrived. . . a gift of grace (and front porches!) I think maybe it’s seasonal? Where I live, we have to be intentional about finding community or it would never happen beyond our kids and grandkids (which is, by the way, one of my favorite forms of communal life and we’ve often sort of dreamily talked about living on 40 acres somewhere with houses near but not too near…). I will also add that two women’s groups I was (am) part of are among my favorite community experiences. One was very deliberate, but morphed and changed over time, and continues. . . now 25 years later. The other just sort of happened . . . and now is sort of not happening. Seasons . . .

  • http://fionalynne.com/blog/ fiona lynne

    I love the image of you all hanging out on your front porch, kids playing between the gardens. It makes we wonder whether one of the reasons we find it harder to find that elusive community in neighbourhoods nowadays is that (at least here in Europe where I live) more and more houses are built with big and private back gardens, and no communal space in front. Older villages have their greens and village halls, but newer suburbs are just mile upon mile of private space. Maybe we need to get some enlightened community-focused architects on our side :)

  • michaboyett

    You’re right. And it’s not just England, Fiona. It’s the same in the US too. And I totally agree. We have to be forced out to our neighbors. And, most of the time, I’m convinced our homes need to do the forcing…

  • michaboyett

    Yes, seasons. Oh, I hope one day you can live on 40 acres with all your family around you, Diana!

  • http://www.redandhoney.com beth@redandhoney


    My husband and I spent many years striving so hard for community.
    We tried to create it, tried to lead it, tried to invite others to it, tried to cajole others into buying into the theory-made-practice. Community, for us, meant working hard and lowering expectations and living in the reality of burning out. It genuinely never occurred to us that being in community would mean just that – being.

    We are in those years. Exactly that. Your solution – it resonates with me… it does. I just don’t really know *how* to do that. Partly because we are totally nomadic right now (looking forward to being more settled in the spring), but also just because it’s kind of a foreign concept to me. Growing up, community meant church. There was nothing else. And finding a church where I feel like I have a community is proving nearly impossible (sigh). So just being? With neighbours and the people around me? Um… I’m ashamed to say that I just don’t really know how to do that. I want to, I really do.

  • http://barefooton45th.com Lesley

    This is one of the most refreshing posts I’ve read in a long time. Lovely writing and true wisdom.

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